Free
by x0wynn0x
Summary: It doesn't hit her until she's staring at her carelessly packed bags the night before. Throughout the summer, she had convinced herself that they had more than 90 days together, that they weren't going to be states apart. The words 'inevitable' and 'end' didn't even grace her vocabulary. Until now.


**AN**: Holy cow, I actually wrote this back in December after that horrible Xmas ep, Glee Actually, and it was written in anger due to that Bram fest. Totally forgot about it, but I finally finished and did a little updating, but it's still really AU.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything, but if I did, Bram wouldn't have existed, Santana would be a total pimp, and Brittany would be a true secret genius and kicked Sam's balls for making her eat food off the floor.

* * *

It doesn't hit her until she's staring at her carelessly packed bags the night before. Throughout the summer, she had convinced herself that they had more than 90 days together, that they weren't going to be states apart. The words 'inevitable' and 'end' didn't even grace her vocabulary.

Until now.

Until Santana catches herself staring at her suitcase, and the realization that in less than 12 hours she was going to be heading on the road, destination: Louisville. Meanwhile, her girlfriend, her world, her life, the fucking Britney to her Justin was staying back in Lima, Ohio.

She blinks rapidly because it's just too much and concentrates on dancing in her underwear to Graffiti6's _Free_, tipsy off a Four Loko and high on something that Puck got from that ex-teacher/pedophile behind a McDonalds. Her hips roll ridiculously off beat, and she _thinks_ she's mouthing the correct words but she could be screaming _Someone Like You_ for all she knows. Which would be weird cause _Free _is a bitching dance-able song and she's in no way mourning over a lost love.

She spins around several times until she's facing Brittany who is lying on her bed and watching her in return. Brittany's also in her underwear, because that's the _only_ way you do it at Casa De La Lopez. Both of them had shed their bras, so of course Santana's going to stare and of course she's going to smirk. Brittany knows her smirk, just as well as she knows the drop in Brittany's smile means that the blonde is thinking something over.

Even in her current inebriated state, Santana grows anxious, because when Brittany thinks (_thinks_ thinks, not pondering over eggs and breakfast) the universe shifts and then something usually booms in the east. It's lame, because it makes Santana nervous and she hates being put into that position when all she wants to do is eat her girlfriend out. And drink lots and lots of alcohol.

"What's eezit?" she asks, undulating her way toward Brittany. Because she can't just sway, she has to fucking undulate.

"Nothing," Brittany says, nibbling on her lower lip.

Her voice soaks up Santana's underwear because seriously, Brittany's smokin' hot and Santana would like to put out that fire with her…wetness…and fuck, the alcohol's totes turning Santana into an Artie Abrams – inarticulate and with about as much sexual prowess as plywood.

"Don't tell me nothing." As smoothly and seductively as her current state allows, she crawls over Brittany on her hands and knees.

Base on Brittany's widening smile, the seduction is definitely working. She straddles Brittany's stomach and leans down to capture pink lips. When they break apart, she makes sure to hold onto Brittany's eye contact even though her girlfriend wants to look away.

"You gonna tell me now, Britt Britt?" Brittany giggles, her hands messaging Santana's hips and urging the girl to grind now. She_ knows _how to make Santana lose her train of thought, but Santana can't lose it because this is serious business and because they have less than 12 hours left together. "Tell meeeeee before I do something mean, like make fun of Lord Tubbington's weight."

"Babe, don't do that. You know he's self-conscious."

"Then tell me why you were looking at me in _that_ way."

Oh god, Santana thinks she's tearing up now. There are actually tears in her tear duck and that annoying, stupid sting behind her eyelids. _Why am I drunk-crying when I could be fucking this beautiful, gorgeous creature into oblivion?_

"Honey, no," Brittany whispers, caressing Santana's tear stained face. Fingers curl to the back of Santana's neck and pulls her head down. Their kiss is sloppy, tongue and all, regardless of Santana's distraught mood because Brittany knows she can't resist.

They spend the next several minutes making out before Brittany breaks it, lightly pulling on Santana's bottom lip with her teeth.

"I'm going to miss this," she says, misty eyed. She massages Santana's back before pulling the body fully on top of her so that they're bare chest to bare chest, thighs slipping between thighs.

Santana rolls her hip, rubbing their nipples together, and enjoys the groan she manages to pull from Brittany's lips. "I'm going to miss you. I don't want you to ever look at me like that, again ok? Like you're sad. We're not saying goodbye."

"I know, I just -" Brittany gasps and trails off just as Santana puts a hand on her clit, over her panties, and rubs. "I love you," she whispers, squeezing the back of Santana's neck.

"I love you too."

"Then don't go."

Santana doesn't respond to that because she can't. Doesn't know how. There aren't enough words to say how sorry she is that she's leaving and Brittany…isn't. And how much she wishes she could bottle every piece of herself for Brittany. They both know life just doesn't work that way and if they were smart, they'd surrender before life works in the harshest type of way and ruins them further.

But they're too selfish. Santana's too selfish. She wants out of Lima but she also wants Brittany. She doesn't want heartache, but most of all she doesn't ever want to be singing _Someone Like You_ and actually fucking mean it_._

* * *

Kentucky is horrible.

How does one aspire to spend the rest of their life in Kentucky when there are better things out there? Like suicide.

The school itself is alright in terms of colleges, but with every passing day Santana feels more like the Token Latina than _just _one of the girls inside her dorm house. They even did a 'knife check' on her before she could properly move in with Blonde Number 1 and Blonde Number 2.

The cheerleading squad is mediocre at best, and god help her but she actually misses Sue Sylvester. As crazy as Sue was, the woman was a genius and knew her shit. Santana's current coach couldn't pass for Sue's water woman on a good day.

The only thing Santana enjoys is – gasp! – the schoolwork. That doesn't surprise her, since McKinley's beacon was Mr-No-Speaky-Spanish-But-Still-Wins-Teacher-of-The -Year-Award-Schuster, so it's great for her to be taught by intelligent people. She loves both of her economic and business class, something she never thought was possible before. She guesses that without all the drama of high school, she can finally focus on schoolwork and hell, it's not so bad.

But anyways, even with her new found appreciation for academics, Santana still feels like she's going to collapse in misery. After school, she's cheerleading then working in her school's book store, and after that she's studying, and on some days she's stuck attending school events for the entire evening. Her social life has pretty much gone down the drain if you discount all her school-oriented meetups.

Then there's the fucking pink elephant known as Brittany Susan Pierce.

They're trying, they really are, but in between every phone call, Skype chats, and text messages, she's daunted by the knowledge that she'll need to save up _weeks _in advance for tickets back to Lima. Her parents had told her explicitly that since she's now an adult, she can make adult decisions using her own adult funding. They'll help her with the necessity: rent, bills, car payments (where the hell is there to go/do in Louisville?) but that whole girlfriend thing is all on her.

She's angry, slightly depressed, and overworks herself. Brittany is trying on her end too, but Santana made it clear that she doesn't want her girlfriend to be working when she should be focusing on school and graduating.

Every night she goes to bed without the warm body next to her, she tells herself that they're adults now, they can do this.

* * *

If possible, Santana grows even angrier at the world. When she's not dealing with her problems, she has to deal with Quinn's and Rachel's problems. She thinks about locking the two of them inside a closet so they can fuck themselves into admitting their sickeningly cute love. On the one hand, they'll get over playing all these stupid games with each other, but then on another hand, Rachel's new boytoy Bart (or was it Ben?) would probably get angry.

There's also Kurt and his manwhoring ways. If she thought her Kentucky cheermates were bad, then Kurt Hummel is the biggest slut to ever slut around. He can't say no to anyone who asks him out, and by that, he literally can't say no. He's even worst than Puck, and speaking of Puck, that dude has gone Matthew McConaughey and hanging around the high school as if that's not completely creepy or skeezy at all. LA didn't work out, but maybe underage high school girls would.

Mercedes on the other side of the world living her LA dreams, but she's suddenly asking Santana advice on body and boyfriends as if Santana's the type to give advice. She doesn't even have a heart. But still, she tries to support Mercedes and listens in on the girl's rants about Hollywood blondes and stick skin models with auto-tuned voices. Mike doesn't have Mercedes' exact problems, but he has self-esteem issues knowing he's not the only Asian dancer in LA and nor is he a well-trained one either. There are thousands of them, he tells her over Facebook chat, and they have the support of their families which means they've gone to school to master their techniques and why did he waste all those years on football when he could have been perfecting his robot?

The positive side of having to deal with other people's problems is that she doesn't have to think too much about her own.

Like any teenager in college, she's stuck pretending to be uber happy and outgoing to get on well with the sorority girls in her squad. She doesn't like anyone on her team, because they're all shallow bitches and Santana's ego can only take one Quinn Fabray at a time. Plus, she doesn't have a Brittany by her side to make her tolerate anyone.

She tells Brittany all of this over the Skype one night, skipping the part where sometimes, _Brittany_ is part of her problem too.

"Enough about me and those other losers," she says, adjusting the glasses on her face. "What about you? How are you doing with classes?"

On the other end, Brittany's in her pajamas (tank top and short shorts), leaning against the headboard with Lord Tubbington on her lap. She shrugs at Santana's question. "I'm actually attending every class so far, although I don't know why I have to retake History. I mean, it's just history right? It's not like we can go back in time and change it. Unless, we start working on that time machine I've been telling you about…"

"No, Brit, I'm not using my holiday money on funding your time machine."

"Fine, Sugar is agreeing to it anyways. She says as long as I've laid down the ground work and devise some sort of blue print, she's all for it. I'm sort of annoyed that she won't read my take on the Novikov self-consistency principal though."

Santana cocks her head to the side, smiling at Brittany's words. See, this girl isn't the least bit stupid. She knows Brittany's brilliant, but the world doesn't and unfortunately, it's the world that Brittany has to impress to get her diploma.

"I'm serious though, Brit, you are working on your classes right? I don't think I can stand it here any longer without you."

Brittany sighs, too heavily for Santana's comfort. "Artie's helping me with the science and math stuff - apparently, telling them I'm too advance for elements and multiplication was not enough to convince Figgins to let me skip it - and Tina's helping me with the Spanish. I'm surprised she knows Spanish, actually. All this time I thought she was Canadian."

Santana stops listening after the word 'Artie.' Just the name makes her cringe. "Um, speaking of the crips on wheels, he hasn't like, tried anything with you has he?"

"What do you mean?"

"Put it this way, who was with you before me? Him. Who was serenading you in a desperate attempt at getting your pretty self to be his pity prom date? Him. If it wasn't for me, he'd be all up on that. And now that I'm not there to scare the geekiness out of him, he's going to try something. Won't be surprised if he hasn't already."

Brittany is staring at her now, staring at her as if she's grown two heads and three horns and wants to eat Lord Tubbington for dinner. Santana is almost embarrassed about how _possessive _she sounds, but hey, it took her a whole fucking year to get Brittany to be officially hers. She has the right to be possessive.

"Don't be silly," Brittany says then laughs. _Laughs_ at her as if _she_'s being ridiculous. "He's being my friend. He's super nice now and also willing to come over and do my homework for me."

Santana grimaces. "No, no, no. Look, you shouldn't have him over and you shouldn't be having him do your homework for you. You have to do it yourself, Brit. What's going to happen when you're taking an exam? He won't be there to take your exams for you."

She rubs her eyes in frustration, because it dawns on her that the Gleeks aren't exactly _helping_ Brittany as they were setting Brittany up for failure. Her main problem with Brittany in the past – and it took her weeks of sleeping alone to admit it – was that she was always holding Brittany's hand across the street. She never taught Brittany how to cross on her own, and when it was time for both of them to grow up, she just up and left Brittany at the stoplight.

"You need to take this seriously," she continues, staring hard at the frowning Brittany on her screen. "You can't just browse through your classes anymore. I need you to graduate so you can be here with me."

"Okay…"

"I don't want to yell at you, but if it gets you to stop being so…I just need you to graduate, okay, baby? I can't stand it here without you."

"Okay."

"Brit, look at me and stop playing with Tubs."

Brittany's shining blue eyes snaps toward Santana's own shining brown ones. When she speaks, her voice is harder. "Okay."

* * *

They make plans to text to each other every day, to be there every Friday for date nights.

Brittany doesn't like it when Santana has obligations that aren't her, and Santana doesn't like it when Brittany not so subtly hints at making her top priority. Santana has school and work to attend to, and when her squad lead tells her she has to be at _this_ thing during _this _time, she just can't tell the girl to fuck off – there's a serious scholarship riding on the line.

Still, they make plans and they work on making those plans work.

If she can't call Brittany, she'll text. If she can't Skype, she'll make it up by sending extremely risqué photos of her to Brittany during McKinley hours just for kicks. She'll spew dirty lines after dirty lines, lines the make her normally blush, to get Brittany hot and heavy so they can have explosive orgasms without even _touching_ each other.

It's difficult work, but she thinks they're doing okay.

* * *

She thinks they're doing okay, especially when a three-day break comes and she can finally go home to do enough laundry to clothe a youth house. She spends the majority of the break fucking Brittany inside her room, inside Brittany's room, and on every service of their homes. When Sam throws a party to reunite the former New Directions and introduce the new New Directions (that stupidass name), she makes sure to put her tongue down Brittany's throat in front of Artie's face.

She thinks they're doing okay, but that doesn't mean all her worries dissipate over night. What doesn't slip her is how close Brittany seemed to have gotten with Sam. There's no obvious canoodling going on, but there's a lot of laughing and inside jokes and looks, mostly on Sam's half. She knows about his short-lived affair with Mercedes and she knows how malleable high school puppy love is. It doesn't mean shit when Sam says he's in love with Mercedes because just a year ago he thought the same about Quinn and to some extent, even her.

So she's a bit worried, okay? Because unlike Artie, Sam is actually good looking and not a misogynist asshole and has function of his legs. His geekiness can be hidden behind close doors, and when in the dark, one can totally pretend he's a girl with those guppy lips of his.

She doesn't mention her worry about Sam to Brittany. They only have 3 days together and wasting it on boys is useless and stupid. Other than having totally awesome sex with her girlfriend, she spends a bit of that time looking over Brittany's schoolwork, something that she should have been doing _last_ year so they wouldn't be in this mess now.

Then the break ends and she's stuck going back to the real world. Only after the break does it hit her how much Brittany holds a large part of her. They've known each other since kindergarten, and they've been so integrated into each others' lives that it's impossible for Santana to feel and breathe anything that isn't Brittany. Her dorm seems colder and lonelier, and there's a large void that her squad, Quinn, Rachel, and the others just cannot fulfill.

It's almost pathetic how much she wants to pack up her things and move back to Lima, where her only problem would be how to avoid trackers and cows while she's driving.

When her depression grows to be too much, she does the stupid thing where she tries to drown herself in school and work just to keep her mind off Brittany. The more she focuses on everything else, the less she has to think about Brittany, their situation, her financial problems, her artistic drought, and her stupid decision to move to Kentucky on a whim (and Brittany's push) without any solid plans.

It gets to the point where Brittany notices and chews her out for putting their relationship on the backburner, and when Santana feels cornered she gets both defensive and offensive. She rarely argues with Brittany and makes a conscious effort to never raise her voice, but sometimes…with the distance and the brewing storm, it becomes too much.

They have a shouting match, where she blames Brittany for not trying hard enough and Brittany blames Santana for worrying too much. Then Brittany says something that has never, ever been brought up before

"Maybe it would have been better if you hadn't left me."

Santana is momentarily speechless, gripping her phone tightly. When she finds her voice, it's coarse but vulnerable. "What? What do you mean by that?"

"I mean, it would've been better if you'd visit more. Or it would've been even better, better if you had just stayed in Lima with me, and instead of Artie and Tina I'd have _you_ to help me graduate."

_It would've been triple better if you hadn't been selfish, _hangs in the air so thick Santana could almost taste it. Brittany blaming her for their current brokenness was a smack in the face, but instead of making her feel guilty or sad, it only angers her.

"You _know_ I couldn't stay in Lima. There's nothing there for me. While I like the fact that I'm in college on a cheerleading scholarship, there's no future in being a cheerleader for the rest of your life. So, I'm sorry that I'm thinking about my future and not thinking about how to help my fucking girlfriend pass high school."

"But you're sad, and you can't blame this on me when you're sad. You can't blame it on Kentucky when you choose to go there."

It's simple how Brittany doesn't yell (never yells) and says what she needs to say in a neutral tone like it's the most obvious thing. Santana would much rather be yelled at than be talked to so calmly. She wants a fight; she doesn't want Brittany to win by default like the blonde usually does when it comes to their relationship.

Santana hates being so fucking whipped.

So she quickly hangs up the call by saying she has to go do something for someone. For once, she's thankful for the distance because it means she can escape their argument by turning off her phone and staying away from the Internet. Any longer with Brittany and she'll probably say something stupid, something like, "Well, you know what? I'm mostly scared that you're going to cheat on me because it's not so hard if Sam and Artie have a good enough excuse. Think plumbing, bitch."

She ends up calling Quinn and books a ticket to New Haven. She doesn't give two shits that Quinn is spending her precious time with Rachel. Those two can pretend not to be in love with each other some other day. Today is Santana's day to vent and cry about Brittany.

And since she's already wasted valuable money on the ticket, Quinn better be sure that she has to drag her sorry ass, broken self away from the dwarf and entertain Santana.

* * *

They break up the second time she visits.

It's as much of a slap in the face as the one she gave Finn Hudson for outing her.

Brittany isn't happy and tells her so. She decides she should probably be the bigger person and end it, since Brittany doesn't have the heart to break up with anyone. She tells Brittany some lame story about a library girl because it's much easier to one-up her girlfriend than it is to tell her the truth, the truth being how she's so much in love with Brittany that she'll take and consume all of Brittany's misery just to make her happy.

She's giving Brittany a way out; a chance to explore whatever there is of high school without any guilt or regret; a chance to have fun and not have to worry or miss some home-sick girl thousands of miles away.

This is the adult thing to do, she tells herself.

* * *

Of course, a month later and after her parents-sponsored trip back to Lima (like what the hell, they couldn't have done that when she was _dating _Brittany?) she finds out that Brit-Brit has been talking to Sam-Sam, and not in the Kurt is talking to Rachel type of the way either, but more like the Ryder talking to Marley type of way even though Jake is now his BFF-4-Lyfe or whatever.

It hurts a lot more than she thought.

At first, she wants to do something violent, like drive over to Finn Hudson's house and punch him in the face. Then she wants to crawl into a corner and brawl her eyes out. Maybe she'll call Quinn and vent and talk more shit about how Quinn is fake-dating her professor to make Rachel jealous since Rachel seems to bask in making Quinn jealous by fake-dating that obvious homo Brian. She also wants to call up Tina and rant about how useless that girl is, because now that Tina is single why couldn't she have used her ninja skills to get into Sam's pants?

Sam likes all that nerdy anime and cartoon shit, doesn't he? Santana _knows_ he must want in between them hardly utilized, Korean thighs.

Fuck. She's even _more_ miserable than when she started out. How can Kentucky be both the best and worst decision of her life? She loves the fact that she's away from Lima, but she hates the fact that she's away from everything that's in Lima, like her family, Brittany, and – she can't believe she's thinking this – her friends. Even Lord Tubbington's chain-smoking, thug-life living, obese ass is missed.

It's as if some deity out there is smiting her for using Karofsky as a beard and bullying Kurt all of those years. All she wants is to be is happy, is it that hard?

* * *

"I heard you're moving to New York."

"Yeah, I am."

"Tina told me...So..how did that happened?"

Santana sighs, heavily, and crosses her half-empty dorm room to take off the Britney Spears posters she has scattered all over the walls. She adjusts her phone to the other ear and says, "Quinn spent like, an hour apologizing to me about being a bitch during Thanksgiving. Same ol' same ol'. Then we talked a bit about what we wanted to do and she told me maybe I should consider other options than Kentucky."

"Oh, so you're listening to Quinn now? I could have told you that. I thought we agreed to talk about serious stuff with each other first."

Santana can tell that Brittany is angry for going behind her back and discussing a future without her. The thought makes Santana chuckle because they haven't exactly been making plans for the future together lately, so she asks, "How does it feel?"

"How does what feel?"

"To hear information like that, important information about your best friend, second hand?"

There's silence on Brittany's end. Santana readjusts the phone again, staring ahead at an 18-year-old Britney Spears' pin up. She feels like her chest is being impaled. Over, and over, and over again. She feels like every time she swallows she might accidentally burst into tears instead. She feels like Rachel Berry after being declined a solo.

It just hurts. So fucking much. She just wants to send some of the hurt outward into the world so she doesn't have to deal with it. She used to want to take away Brittany's pain, but right now, at this very moment, the first person that can have some of her hurt can be the cause of it: Brittany.

"I said I was sorry," Brittany finally mumbles. "I knew you wouldn't take it so well, so I wanted to wait before telling you."

"Wanted to wait? Wait for what? An apocalypse?"

"I wanted to wait for it to be real before telling you."

Another slap. "Oh great, it's so real now, isn't it? It's the realest shit you've ever had, isn't it? God, Brit, why do you even bother talking to me when you can be jumping on his very real dick at the moment?"

There's silence, then there's sniffles, and Santana doesn't know if it's coming from her end or Brittany's end. She wishes it came from Brittany's end. She wishes Brittany understood how utterly betrayed she feels because they were meant to be from the very first time 5-year-old Brittany colored messily over Santana's drawing and declared them best friends before Santana could retaliate with a scowl.

She can hear Brittany take a deep breath over the phone before saying in a choked whisper, "You said you didn't care whether or not I was dating."

"Well, I lied, okay? I do care, and apparently I care a lot. A lot more than you obviously seem to care after swapping spits not even a month after we broke up."

"Look, you're the one who wanted to do this, okay? You're the one that broke us up and told me it was okay to see other people. Unless you didn't want me to believe that too, and in that case, that's just very confusing and April Fools isn't until April. "

"I didn't think you'd be dating _him_."

"What's so bad about Sam?"

"Sam was my boyfriend, my _beard_. My ex-girlfriend is dating my ex-boyfriend; do you know how disgusting that is? That's not only breaking some stupid girls' code, it's obliterating it like Kurt Hummel would obliterate any song sung by a guy."

"So it'll be okay for me to date anyone _but_ Sam, is that what you're saying?"

_No, it's not okay for you to date anyone_.

"Yes, that's exactly what I'm saying." Santana rips off the Britney poster, leaving pieces of it still stuck on the wall.

"Then how about this, how about you fix it. I know you _know_ how you can fix it. Can I just be honest with you and say I still have no idea why we broke up? Did I – did I do something wrong?"

"No, you didn't. We needed a break, and we still do. See, this is what happens when I'm not around, B. You start looking at other people and realize that they're able to give you what I can't! I'm trying to prevent us from being Kurt and Blaine."

"You don't know that, that we'll end up like Kurt and Blaine. Why do you get to make the decisions for us? That's not fair."

Santana laughs bitterly. "This whole thing isn't fair. You're all the way over there, and I'm all the way over here. If we weren't so far apart and obviously heading in different directions you wouldn't have mistaken Fishlips as edible and put your mouth all over it."

"Santana, you need to stop being mean before I hang up."

"Are you – are you dating him just to _spite _me?"

A long silence. Then Brittany's dull tone, "No."

"You are, aren't you? You know what, maybe I will go ahead and be mean just to piss you off. That way, you'll have a legitimate Santana-is-always-the-bad-guy excuse to ditch me and call up your pimp daddy."

"You seriously need to stop right now. Lord Tubbington has been teaching me self-defense since you've been gone, Kelly Clarkson style. I never thought I'd have to use his teachings against you."

"Lord Tubbington is a useless, good for nothing cat that will die eating his own weight."

Brittany hangs up. Santana waits a minute before checking her phone to be absolutely certain that Brittany hung up. She redials Brittany number but gets voicemail. 3 times. She sends Brittany several texts apologizing for being a dumb hard-head, only for those messages to go ignored. 8 times.

She rips off all her Britney posters and dumps them in the trash. She fishes out one of Brittany's favorite Yo Gabba Gabba t-shirts and throws that in the trash too. She breaks the mixtape CDs Brittany made her last Valentine's Day. When she goes on her Facebook and sees Brittany's status changed to In a Relationship, she deletes all the photos she has tagged of her and Brittany and debates whether or not to unfriend both Brittany and Sam.

She thinks better of it and unfriends Sam only.

Then she calls up Puck and asks, "Are you still in Lima?"

"Hola to you too, chica."

"Are you still in Lima."

"Yeah, what's up? What's got your panties in a bunch?"

"Sam pulled some bullshit Edward Cullen move and managed to snag Brittany with those Venus flytrap lips. He made her eat fucking cereal off the floor! I need you to key his car, tepee whatever trailer park home he's living in, give him a facial swirly, whatever!"

"Uh, Sam's my bro, dude."

"Yeah, and he was mine too until he stole my girl. What if he'd done that with Zizes when you were with her? Or with _Quinn_? Hmm?" And for the kill, she adds in a broken, "Please. This is the only time I'm begging you."

There's silence on the other line until Puck finally relents, "Alright, I'll do it. I'll send you pictures."

* * *

If she thought Kentucky was large, then New York is Finn Hudson.

She knows it'll be difficult but she never planned for it to be this hard. Somehow, she manages to slither her way into Rachel and Kurt's life, and now she's sharing a broken down apartment with their two crazy asses. An apartment with no walls. No walls. It's all curtains and if she listens closely enough, she can hear how Kurt applies his 3-step skin care regime and Rachel's actual inner monologue.

They're what some would consider 'friends,' but Santana vows she's drawing the line at painting each others' toenails. She likes Rachel, tolerates Kurt, but they're in no way compatible enough to be staying up all night gossiping together, scheduling in movie dates, or pretending they carpool to church. Her only reprieve from the gaydom that is Hummelberry is Quinn who's only a train ride away thanks to the ridiculous amount of money the blonde spent on metro passes.

Santana won't even touch on the fact that Quinn spent that much money for _Rachel Berry_.

Her parents aren't fitting her bills anymore. She still has some of the money her mom gave her and her trust fund, so she uses that solely on rent. She's not some idiot who has her head stuck in the clouds; she went looking for jobs the moment her suitcase was unpacked. She's now working part-time as a barista and a deli store clerk, which means there's no room for advancement and at most, her and Hummelberry can eat out every once in a while. She's the stereotypical struggling artist, but the 'art' part has been put on hold for months now.

* * *

She's still doing this stupid thing where she lets her fears overtake her and she ends up self-sabotaging. This time, she does it by being stubborn and refusing to speak to Brittany until Brittany speaks to her. She knows her stubbornness could ruin their friendship forever, since they don't have the convenience of _having_ to interact and see each other every day in school anymore. School and Lima itself was their medium. Now, it's all sink or swim. Now, if she doesn't pick up a phone or make that visit, they won't ever have to interact or see each other again.

Her avoidance lasts a total of two weeks before she breaks down and calls Brittany, apologizes profusely, and demand they make up because that's what best friends do.

She doesn't mention Puck and how he managed to fill Sam's locker up with dirt for a week, clippings of a half-naked Taylor Lautner for another week, and melted chapstick for a final week. She's being petty as fuck but she has no qualms about it.

Brittany agrees to be her "friend," but she also asks Santana to stop being a bitch and retag their photos on Facebook. It takes them ten minutes into the conversation before they're right back to where they started, as best friends. They don't talk about Sam, or the Valentines mixed Santana destroyed, or relationships, or even hot girls. They talk about Tubbington, school, and what Santana's plans are for New York.

"When are you coming back?" Brittany asks.

"Eventually," she says, flopping down on a couch that Hummelberry stole off someone's back alleyway. "It's difficult now that my parents aren't supporting me anymore. I guess this is their way of saying ha, if you wanna up and leave college to pursue a dream that only 1% of the population can achieve, than go ahead, _on your own. _They should be happy I even stuck it out for that long."

"I'm sorry…"

"For what?"

"For making you go to Kentucky when you really didn't want to."

Santana laughs and lets slip, "Babe, you didn't make me do anything. I wanted to, for you."

"Aw, that's sweet. Do you think we can go to community together when I come to New York?"

Santana rolls over to her stomach in a failed attempt to get her heart to settle. "You…you want to move here and go to school here?" _With me? _is left unsaid.

"Well, yeah, silly. That's why I'm trying really hard to graduate right now."

Santana breaks into a smile that's so embarrassingly cheesy that even Rachel Berry could tease her for it. It's ridiculously stupid how happy the blonde can make her feel with a few simple words. She already knew her and Brittany had a future – no matter what, they'll always be BFF – but she didn't know whether or not she's lucky enough for her and Brittany to still have _that_ future.

Sam who?

* * *

That wasn't the only self-sabotaging part though. The other self-sabotage happens at a party that one of Rachel's theatre friend throws. Rachel manages to drag her along because the midget wants a night to forget everything. Santana's guess is that something had happened between Rachel and Quinn during Rachel's New Haven visit last weekend, but she's too wrapped up in her own drama to ask Rachel about it.

Santana agrees to go. Three tequila shots and two beers in and she's suddenly the most outgoing and loud person at the party. Rachel has been by her side all night, throwing her odd looks and trying to keep her in check. Trying is the key word, because _no one_ tells her what to do.

She might still be overwhelmed by New York, but it's big in a beautiful way, and it's freeing, liberating, and for once she can be herself without worrying about a slushie. Then there are the women – women that come from all sizes, shapes, races, places, culture, and Santana doesn't even know where to start. During her days at UofL, she was scandalized over another girl looking at her in _that_ way, but here, where she's surrounded by Rachel's promiscuous theatre friends and people with question marks above their sexualities, being stared at is a normal occurrence for her.

Homosexuality is a normal thing.

Without realizing it, she's stuck in this corner with some blonde chick playing with her fingers. The woman is whispering something in her ear but all Santana can think about is how blue her eyes are and how blonde she is. Then she thinks about how states away, Brittany is probably in bed with Sam because that's what lame ass white couples do.

Fuck that shit, Santana says, both loudly inside her head and outside to the party. She grabs the random blonde by the neck, and pulls in, but then someone grabs her waist and pulls her out. There's a lot of confusion, mostly on Santana's part, before she ends up stumbling behind some tables. When she gets her footing, she finds that it's Rachel who had pulled her away from Brittany-lite.

"What the hell, Berry."

"Don't what the hell me, we're going home."

If she weren't so drunk, she would fight the tiny hands that grab onto her arm. She wants to protest over why they're leaving a perfectly good party, but she's too busy trying to walk straight and not bump into anymore solid objects.

"If I hadn't been there you'd have made the biggest mistake of your life," Rachel says as they escape into the streets.

Santana is bawling now. "Fuck you! You don't know my life! I'm single and loving it and Brittany is off doing Hakuna Matata with Simba! Why does she get to go out and cheat and I can't?"

Rachel shakes her head. "She's not cheating on you if you guys aren't _together_. Stop being ridiculous and sober up! What is with you and Quinn turning into complete – complete _slutty_ idiots during parties? Why can't anyone keep it in their pants?"

"What are you talking about? Is Brittany cheating on me with Quinn too?"

Rachel rolls her eyes and gets Santana back to their apartment with Kurt's help in one piece. When she's stripped of her alcohol-stench clothes and bundled up underneath her blankets, she feels a weight on her bed and a palm cupping her cheek.

"You'll thank me for this in the morning," Rachel whispers. "I know, deep down, your intent was to get back at her. Until you can honestly say you're over Brittany, you shouldn't try to do things to hurt her, yourself, or other people in the process anymore. Ok?"

Santana can feel hot tears run down her cheek as she nods. Rachel doesn't move from the bed, instead she shifts and pulls the covers over both of them so that they're spooning. Even though she knows it's Rachel's arms that are wrapped securely around her, she pretends it's Brittany's and forces herself to sleep.

In the morning, after two Advil and three bottle of Gatorade, Santana has to laugh at the fact that a night intended on having fun turned into the both of them failing miserably at trying to forget their girls.

After she laughs, she cries, because Rachel is right – she almost cheated (whatever, they're still together in every sense of the word) on Brittany. Why? Because she's an idiot. Months away from the love of her life and she's making stupid decisions left and right due to freaking out. She didn't even want that random girl, or want to be like those idiots that wake up in a different bed every week, regrets their mistakes, and have to schedule countless doctor appointments afterwards. That Puck persona was so high school ago.

"Word of advice?"

"What, Streisand?" Santana says halfheartedly. She looks up from her spot curled on their couch as Rachel comes around the corner, sipping her own bottle of Gatorade.

"After Finn and I broke up, legitimately this time, I had a nice chat with Quinn –" Of course, "— and she told me that instead of going out and rebounding to get over him, I should start focusing on myself. So that's what I did. I went to auditions; I stayed extra hours at practice to perfect my singing and dancing; I began to mingle more with my NYADA classmates. I had a dream, and I focused in on that dream. Now, whenever someone mentions Finn's name I don't even bat an eye."

Santana wants to say something snarky and bitchy to that, because anyone with two brain cells and eyeballs can easily get over Finn Hudson, but she reminds herself that she's no longer 16 and angry at the world. She just stares down at the Gatorade bottle in her hand and asks, "How does that feel? Getting over Goliath?"

"I know this might sound like I'm belittling what we had but after looking back with a clear head I can say that…that it feels like I can finally breathe after drowning in him for so long."

"That's very cheesy."

"That's the truth." Rachel tilts her head and smiles sadly at Santana. "Hopefully, maybe one day you will understand what I'm saying."

* * *

A month later and she still feels as worthless and miserable as she did during the breakup. When she's not throwing her phone at the wall, she's throwing it at Kurt, or Rachel, and since she can't throw it at Quinn, she spams the girl's Facebook wall with heartbreaking songs and those meme pictures with sad texts over them. Who gives a shit if Quinn's friends with Brittany? Santana _wants_ Brittany to see her pathetic hot mess scattered all over Quinn's Facebook.

Another month later and she's trying to do this thing where she sleeps away all her problems. Clue word being 'tries,' because every time she tries to convince herself that the stranger could be blonde enough or blue-eyed enough to be a Brittany replacement, she hesitates. Her heart doesn't allow her to see anyone else. She can't make a move despite all the drinks she puts in her system and because stupid Rachel or Kurt are always there to 'protect' her.

Without Brittany, there is no confetti. There's no joy in doing anything, no laughter or smiles that can blind light, no reason to look forward to the next day.

The worst part is that even though they're broken up, she and Brittany continue to talk. They could never bring themselves to ignore each other completely. They still skim over serious topics, and while Santana mostly helps Brittany with her schoolwork (she still wants – scratch that, _needs_ Brittany to graduate) Brittany spoils her with tales about Lord Tubbington and his Pussy Harlem. Yes, he's a pimp.

And when the mood fits, they really, _really_ talk.

"How many fingers?" Santana would husk.

"Two," Brittany would respond with a whine.

"Make it three, and I'd say use your other hands to circle your clit but I know you'll drop the phone and I want to be able to hear you scream my name when you come."

They're better "friends" now than they were a couple during the time Santana was at Kentucky and Brittany was stuck in Lima.

At the end of each conversation her heart feels full and yet lonely at the same time. Everything, and literally _everything,_ reminds her of Brittany. The blonde consumes her thoughts, even more so now that they're not together than when they were. During one gruesome day she busts out Adele's _Someone Like You_ then decides to find Kurt's new iPhone and throw it at a wall.

Eventually, she realizes this isn't how an 19-year-old should live and starts following Rachel's advice.

Focus on herself.

Like every struggling New York artist, she attends various mic nights. She helps Rachel and Kurt with their audition and when the mood fits, she goes to some herself. She takes community courses on economics, some on music, and some on biology just for the heck of it.

She harasses her bosses at work until they lament and give her better hours so that she can pay more than just her rent and actually do shit in the evening. She lets Rachel teach her things about breath control, singing more from the diaphragm, when to riff and when to wield it back, and the difference between Hairspray the musical and Hairspray the movie.

Instead of going out to disillusion herself with a Brittany placeholder, she becomes friendlier to Rachel and Kurt's friends. She makes her own friends. She calls up Mercedes, Mike, and hell, even Puck, and invites them to New York where they all act like fools together and end up drunk, half-naked and sprawled all over the cramped apartment. Unsurprisingly, Quinn shows up the next day to nurse them back to life from their hangovers and Santana doesn't miss the way Quinn disappears with Rachel behind Rachel's curtained bedroom for long periods at a time.

She writes songs about nothing (daily life) and everything (Brittany), and with the help of Puck, she puts instruments to those songs. There's no way for her to go to a studio and record when she can barely afford ramen, but she does make intentionally cheesy YouTube music videos with Mercedes and Rachel as backup singers, and it's possibly the most ridiculous thing she's ever done but also the funnest. Having friends, she thinks, is pretty awesome 22% of the time.

Thoughts about Brittany are few and far between, but she doesn't think she can ever erase her biggest and greatest love. Even if she could, she doesn't think she will.

She comes to a conclusion that her world doesn't have to revolve around Brittany for her to be happy.

* * *

She knows she has her own problems to fix, but somehow she finds herself getting tossed into Rachel and Quinn's mess. Their drama is so much easier to deal with, she figures, because while she and Brittany are being pushed away, Rachel and Quinn are being pulled together. Ever since Rachel dumped Buddy (Bill? Buck? Brody?) those two haven't spent one day without calling each other. It's like they're in a relationship. Too bad they're both too dumb to realize it.

"Dammit Berry, you're a voodoo doll away from being a stalker, you know that?"

Rachel quickly closes the window she has open to Quinn's Facebook. She turns to Santana with sad doe eyes, as if it was _her_ mother that had been shot by a hunter. Santana merely rolls her eyes and takes a seat at the dining table, her Honey Nut Cheerios in one hand and yesterday's news paper in the other.

"I just don't understand it. I thought we were best friends and _now_ she tells me that she's gay? I mean, after all these years and what we've been through you'd think she could trusts me. She should know I'm 100% acceptable of the gay community. My fathers are gay and you're gay and Kurt's gay and you guys are my best friends."

Santana just about had enough. Either Rachel is really an idiot, or Rachel is really that oblivious. Maybe Santana's just been spoiled by her straight-forward upbringing and by being around Brittany who has no filter, so unlike Quinn and Rachel, Santana doesn't beat around the bush. She grew up learning to understand people and all their bullshit. The biggest lesson she learned when she first went after Brittany was that it pays to be honest, true to one's self, and fight for what you want. Ok, that was more like 3 lessons, but who's counting.

Rachel and Quinn obviously want each other. They're just. Too. Fucking. Slow. To. Get. It.

"Do you ever wonder _why_ Quinn doesn't want to tell you? Hmm? Excluding the fact that you guys share the same bed and probably take showers together, ever wonder what she could be hiding from you that prevents her from spilling her magna cuming-all-over-Jodie-Foster secrets? I know, Brittany knows, and I'm sure Mercedes knows, so why not you?"

At first, Rachel looks confused, like she's thinking really hard about Santana's question and nothing seems to make sense until it all seems to make sense. Her eyes go even impossibly wider and her mouth drops.

"I didn't say anything," Santana says then shoves a spoonful of Nuts in her mouth.

"She doesn't…does she? Oh my god, does she have feelings for me?"

Santana swallows and smirks. "I didn't say anything."

"Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god, why didn't you say anything? Why didn't she say anything? Why didn't anyone say anything?"

"Welcome to the 21st century, may I take your order?" Santana wants to laugh at Rachel, so she does. "Look, don't tell Quinn I said anything, okay? She'll kill me, but yeah, she likes you. She's also trying to get over you by banging some chick named Lisa, so if you want to tap that, I suggest you start hollering at it before it goes away."

"Hollering at – what kind of language are you speaking, Santana? And I don't like –"

"Nuh uh, don't say you don't like her because I can tell from your fucking obsessive possessiveness that all you do is think, breathe, and eat is Quinn. Which is ew by the way. I can't believe I said that."

Somehow, Santana spends the next hour trying to get Rachel to admit that she's in love with Quinn. If that wasn't sickening enough, she ends up giving Rachel money to go see Quinn the next day – money that she was saving up to go back to Lima. But since she and Brittany are no longer together…

"I think you two belong together," Rachel says out of nowhere.

Santana chokes on her milk. "Me and whom and what?"

"You and Brittany. I think you guys belong together."

"Too bad we're broken up and she's dating whats his face."

"But it's not really like that, you know? I know you're technically not together anymore and she's with Sam – which, no one supports by the way – but you two still talk to each other like you're together. I hear you say 'I love you' all the time. And um…" Rachel goes quiet; she also goes red around the cheeks, "…There was that one time that I could hear your more explicit conversations in the middle of the night."

It's Santana's turn to go red around the cheeks. "Oh. Well, you know, we have needs and it's obvious that Samwise Puffygee face isn't fulfilling hers."

Rachel nods. "And you guys need each other. Take it from me. My love story with Finn was tumultuous and grandeur, but even I have to admit that ours wasn't one meant for a happy ending. However, with you and Brittany, you guys have been together forever, before high school, and you're still together even though you've broken up. What you have is something that just doesn't go away."

Santana doesn't mention the word soulmate, but that's pretty much what Rachel is trying to allude. She wants to desperately believe Rachel, but it's easier to say, "Go sit down and talk out your problems," than to actually go out and fix it. Yes, she knows she's a hypocrite since that's exactly what she told Rachel to do with Quinn, but fuck it.

Kurt tells her the exact same thing a week later.

She's barging into the restaurant where Kurt is having a date with some hipster in a wool hat. She tucks her phone inside her pocket after receiving an urgent text from Kurt that read, "_Save me."_

Putting on her best Actressing-face - a term coined by Rachel - she strolls up, pushes Kurt's shoulder, and scowls at his date. "What the fuck is going on? Are you seriously doing this to me? AGAIN?"

The date jumps back from his chair, startled, while Kurt pulls out his practiced constipated-Finn face.

"Santana? What – what are you doing here, baby?" Kurt says, and this is the cue for Santana to start smacking him across his arms and face (her favorite part) and for her to shout, "YOU BASTARD! HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO ME? AFTER EVERYTHING I'VE DONE FOR YOU? _EVERYTHING_. THAT INCLUDES IN THE BEDROOM!"

Everyone in the restaurant stops and stares, Kurt's date backs away from the table, and two waiters come out to stop the commotion. Before the restaurant can officially kick them out, she grabs Kurt's dress jacket and pulls him up. He throws his date a pathetic, "Sorry," before getting hauled away.

"Did you really have to add that last bit in, Santana?" Kurt says as soon as they hit the night and far away from the restaurant.

"What? You wanted dramatics right?"

"Now people will start wondering what we do in _bed_. The mental image is burning my eyes."

"Trust me, as soon as we get home even I'm going to take a long, hot shower to wash your stench off my body. So…what was wrong with this one?"

A rush of freezing wind hits them, and Kurt closes the space between them by looping his arm through hers. They walk for several feet with Kurt groaning and scrunching up his face about the weather before he says, "Lucas – that's his name – was sweet, considerate, a perfect gentleman. He also has the funniest celebrity-patient stories but won't name names because of those bogus confidentiality agreements. He drives a Lexus and has a doctorate, and he was practically two dinners away from being my sugar daddy."

Santana raises a brow and looks at him as if he's just chosen shit over steak. "What's the problem again?"

"He's no Blaine."

She blinks. Shit over steak.

"Sometimes, I think me and Blaine are meant to be like how you're meant to be with Brittany."

"That's completely random. I don't know how we went from talking about your issues to _that_."

"I just realized that after my entire mess with Paul, Michael, Brendan, and the guys in my mime class, that there's no one, absolutely no one, that could make me feel the way I do about Blaine."

Yes, Kurt's slut badge became worst when he found out that Blaine's been rekindling his 'friendship' with Sebastian. Santana won't fret though, because it wasn't like she was a saint all those times in high school. Plus, Kurt is single and young, he deserves to go out and explore his sexuality. Too bad she can't hold the same mindset as him, which is a shame because she's been hit on, like, a thousand times and all she can think about was how her poor heart was already taken by a blonde back in Ohio. Why was it so much easier to spread her wings and legs in a small conservative town than it is in a liberal, sexually charged vessel?

She even attempted to write a country song about that.

"What makes you so certain that Sir Grease-A-Lot is the one?" she asks, because it's funny that Kurt can even compare himself and Blaine to her and Brittany. As if.

"I just have a hunch. I know that everlasting high school relationships are as rare as an ugly Alexander McQueen, but it happens and I think this will be one of those times."

"Wow. I would totally believe that if Blaine wouldn't be tempted to stick his dick inside the next available Warbler. _While _you are still together. Don't forget that."

"Love makes you do stupid things, _you _out of all people should know that Miss Lets-break-up-even-though-I-have-no-valid-reasons- to."

"Oh shut it, Rihanna. I've done stupid things but I've never cheated on Brittany and she's never cheated on me. But still, we're still teenagers. Do we – are we seriously talking about soulmates here? Lots of people don't find their plus one until they're in their 30s."

Kurt huffs, pulling her sharply around a corner as they dodge a mob of tourists. "I'm fully aware that we have our issues and what he did was inexcusable, but you have to think of it this way; humans aren't meant to be monogamous. We're meant to go off, but that doesn't mean we're not meant to return home. What if Blaine's my home, like Brittany is yours? Shouldn't we at least try again?"

Santana thinks Kurt is stupid for even wanting to go back to a cheater. But then the more she thinks about, the more she accepts that if Brittany were to cheat on her…she'll probably end up taking the blonde back in a heartbeat. Sure, they'll argue and have fights over it, but they'll still return to each other.

They always return to each other.

As pathetic as that sounds – how hopelessly she's in love with Brittany – the fact that neither of them has ever cheated on each other or even _thought_ about cheating is already a step above whatever delusions Kurt has about Blaine. In fact, they seem to only cheat on other people with each other.

That little fact makes Santana very, very happy, messed up or not.

Still, who the fuck finds their soulmates in kindergarten? Apparently, she did. But hey, at this point Santana thinks if it's meant to be then it's meant to be.

* * *

"Hey."

"Hi."

"What's the matter? Did your clock break again, Brit? Because it's…3 in the middle of the night and I'm sure you have Cheerios practice tomorrow."

Santana yawns and rolls over on her back. Her body still aches after the epic workout she got through Dance Central with Kurt, Quinn, Rachel and their NYADA buddies the day before. Three years ago if someone were to tell her she'd be surrounded by weirdos and sweating to a dancing game, she'd ruin them physically and mentally with her vicious words. But now, she can't imagine her life without her three loser best friends, their gay camaraderie, and the one emotion that's prevalence throughout the whole ordeal: acceptance. Moving to New York will forever be one of the best decisions of her life.

A small smile breaks across Santana's face, but then she remembers that she's still on the line with Brittany. She actually hasn't talked to Brittany in over a week.

"Nothing's the matter, not exactly." Brittany's voice sounds small and the effect wakes Santana up completely. "I'm calling to say…I miss you."

Santana laughs and rubs her face. "I miss you too. What do you mean by not exactly?"

"When I say I miss you, I mean I miss you, miss you. Like, every second of the day I miss you. I was having a chat with Lord Tubbington today and he accidentally said your name instead of Sam's and let me tell you, it got really awkward really fast."

Santana doesn't know what to say to that, so she says, "That's good to know the devil cat misses me too."

"It's ok Tubs, San doesn't mean that," Brittany speaks away from the phone before her voice returns, "When are you coming home?"

"I am home."

Brittany makes an odd noise. "I'm sorry, I keep forgetting that you're not just visiting New York. You're actually living in New York."

"Yeah…"

"You didn't come back for Mr. Schue's wedding. You, Rachel, Kurt, and Quinn all didn't."

"What's the point? They're just going to break up as soon as Ms. Pillsbury realizes that she'll have to clean up all the hair grease he leaves behind in his wake."

"It still would have been nice to see you."

"I know, and me see you. I just can't afford it right now. Maybe for the summer?"

"I love you."

Santana lets out a hard breath. "You think that's something you should be saying when you're still with Sam?"

"Would it change or matter whether or not I'm with Sam? I love you. I'll always love you, even though I've tried not to. It's as impossible as getting Tubs off his smoking addiction. What's that song again? I can't help falling in love with you?"

Santana rolls to her side then the other side, but no matter the side it doesn't stop the tears from prickling at her eyes. Months have already passed and yet she's still a wreck over this stupid breakup. She thought she was doing so good. She thought she was over this. But a minute on the phone with Brittany and she forgets why they broke up in the first place.

"You can't say things like that when we're not together."

"It's still the truth. It'll always be the truth. Do you want me to sing the song? Maybe it'll help you fall asleep."

Santana laughs and swallows down the lump in her throat. She doesn't correct Brittany and point out that _she's_ the one who called at 3 am because she couldn't sleep. Santana finds a pillow and hugs it to her chest, pretending it's Brittany, and says, "Sure babe, sing at me."

"Don't make fun of me though because I haven't had much practice. I'm still better than Rachel, of course."

"Always."

"Ok, here goes…" Santana hears a piano playing in the background and she recognizes it as Ingrid Michaelson's version before Brittany's soothing voice breaks out, "_Wise men say….only fools rush in…but I can't help…falling in love with you…_"

* * *

Someone throws a ketchup bag at the back of her head, and she immediately knows it's Quinn Fabray.

"Sup, bitch," Santana says, turning away from mixing a mean concoction. "Good to see you managed to get out of the midget's room for a minute. Need I remind you that we have thin walls? Like, literal blanket thin walls? Thanks for the wailing cat noises by the way; it's on my Tumblr now, tagged with 'scary noises, spooky monsters, and disgusting lesbian shit.'"

"I did not listen to a single word you've just said." Quinn doesn't even bother to blush. She runs a hand through her newly re-cut short hair and leans against the counter, watching Santana work the cocktail shaker like a shake weight. She's dressed in short shorts and a NYADA t-shirt and the sight almost makes Santana gag (she can imagine a better image of a better blonde in her apartment).

"It's only 8 in the morning, Santana, why are you already drinking?"

"If I'm going to have to spend a day with you, Berry, and Hummel then I need to pregame and pregame hard."

"We're just going to the park and the met."

"Exactly why I need to get my drink on." Santana pours the drink in two glasses and hands Quinn one. "Take it, think of it as a congratulatory for finally popping the Berry."

"Ok, that's just really disgusting, how old are we? 5?" Quinn takes the drink anyways but puts it down. "Why are you in a pissy mood this morning?"

"Maybe it's because I spent 2 hours on the phone with Brittany and she _serenaded _me the entire night. It was love song after love song and how the hell am I supposed to process that?"

Quinn rolls her eyes. "Easy, stop being such a ridiculous bitch and get back with your ex-girlfriend. I don't know how hard that is."

"You don't understand! It's hard! It's –"

"Ok, tell me exactly why you can't get back with Brittany, and don't give me that long distance relationship excuse."

"Well – I –" Santana stumbles then glares hard at Quinn. She drowns her glass before pouring herself another one. "Look, I'm saving us the heartache, okay? I don't want us to end up hating each other like Kurt and Blaine obviously still do, despite whatever fantasy Kurt seems to have about them getting back together."

"What a load of bull. You're both still going through unnecessary heartache, you idiot. Brittany doesn't need a white knight."

"You don't know what –"

Quinn shoves a finger in her face and Santana is two seconds away from breaking it off. "Shut up," Quinn says, "I spent four years almost sabotaging the best relationship I ever had because I was in denial and hated myself. You're no longer in denial and I'm pretty sure your ego is too large to hate itself, so you have no excuse for that. So stop being such a whiny ass bitch and do what makes you happy."

"I –"

"I said shut up. If Brittany is what makes you happy, then get her. You're obviously what makes Brittany happy. Why? I have no idea, but for some reason she can't stop comparing Sam or every other person to you and have them come up short. So again, tell me what's the problem other than some asinine reason to prolong this stupid break up?"

Santana's eyes dart back and forth between Quinn's frustrated ones, trying to desperately understand what Quinn – and hell, _everyone _– is trying to get at. It's scaring her that maybe, just maybe, Quinn's right. Maybe she had made the stupidest decision of her life with the break up, but is it too late? Quinn doesn't seem to think so, and despite their many differences and how Santana is so much better than her, Santana still holds Quinn's opinion in very high regards. The girl's like her big sister, man.

"After everything you've put her through in high school," Quinn continues, "With that whole bearding mess and denying your sexuality and denying her love, I'm surprised she even still wants to be with you. So how about you quit being selfish for once and put Brittany and _her_ feelings first?"

The urge to slap Quinn is strong, but after having lived away from the black wormhole known as Lima, Ohio and being surrounded by people like Rachel and Kurt, she's learned a little something called taking criticism. Quinn is only dishing out tough love, and it's taken Santana months of grown-up life to know when someone is trying to give her advice, not demean her. Don't mistake her, though – she still wants to shank a bitch.

"What if she doesn't want me anymore because of what I did?" Santana asks, lowering her eyes to the empty glass.

Quinn dumps her drink in the sink, gets the rest of Santana's cocktail shaker and dumps that too. She regards Santana with a stern, hard look. "Do you know who she goes running to when _you_ make her sad? Cry? Depressed? Me. Do you know who she talks to when it comes to her relationship with Sam or with you? Me. Trust me when I say the only person she wants, regardless of the distance and the idiocy, is you."

"Why are you miraculously making sense? Where was this non-bipolar, sane Quinn all throughout high school?"

Quinn shrugs with a smile. "She was hiding. But now…" Her eyes dart over Santana's shoulder and her face becomes sickeningly dopey. "…She's found someone that makes her not want to hide anymore. You've found your someone too, you're just too stubborn to go for it."

"Aw baby, that's like poetry," comes Rachel from behind Santana.

"Oh fuck, gross, why do you guys have to do this with me present?" Santana throws up her hands and runs out of the kitchen just as Rachel goes in for the kiss.

* * *

She's listening to Graffiti6's _Free_ during the brink of summer, wondering why the fuck the lyrics to that song holds more meaning to her than _Someone Like You_ when she gets a loud clank at the door.

"Coming! Hold your shit," she mumbles.

Kurt is somewhere doing something and Rachel is with Quinn in New Haven, getting ready to ship their nasty in-love asses back to Lima, so Santana has the apartment all to herself. She's saved up enough money to visit Lima for a week (her parents would like to see her pretty mug, but they still won't pay for the trip) but she's undecided as to when to visit. She wants to do this and get Brittany back, but seeing Brittany face to face still haunts her to this day, so maybe she should –

The door continues to knock.

Her thoughts are on Brittany and what the blonde is doing at the moment when she slides the metal door open. She expects one of their rowdy tenants, or a sexy milkwoman, or a FedEx guy with an unmarked secret package for Kurt; what she doesn't expect is a 5'8 blonde with ocean blue eyes and a smile that could energize all of New York.

Brittany literally tackles her to the concrete floor. Different ranges of emotions fly by her face – surprise, confusion, and absolute happiness. The floor can be made out of burning coal for all Santana cares, as long as this insatiable blonde is holding onto her for dear life, she's absolutely content. Complete euphoria. She's laughing, and crying, and gripping Brittany so tight that both of their circulation is a squeeze away from being cut off.

"Oh my god, Britt Britt, what are you doing here?" she says, pulling them back up to their feet. She keeps her arms wrapped around the taller girl and they sway on the spot.

Brittany is wiping at her wet face and then kissing it. "I wanted to come see you."

"All the way in New York? NEW YORK?"

"Yeah, I told you I missed you."

It's been almost 6 months since they last both saw each other. Santana swears that Brittany has gotten more beautiful and it's unfair to the rest of the human race. It's unfair to Santana's heart because all she wants to do is take Brittany against some furniture.

"You could have waited," Santana says quietly.

"Waited for what?"

"For me to come back to Lima."

Brittany smiles sadly, resting her forward against Santana's. "And wasted more time between us? No. I missed you so much, honey. I tried to forget about us, about this –" she lays a hand over Santana's heart, "- but you can't forget something that's yours."

"God, you can't say that. Stop saying such wonderful things."

Brittany giggles and Santana's heart just flies. "Why not? It's still true. I don't want anyone else and FYI, I totally broke up with Sam. I was afraid he might go into heartbreak depression because hello, it's me, but then he started serenading Mercedes again and I think they make a cuter couple."

"What? But – why'd you break up?" Santana's too stuck on Brittany breaking up with Sam to ask about the whole Mercedes thing, because last she checked, _their_ Mercedes was in LA and happily single.

"He's not you," Brittany says. "It was nice for a while because I was lonely, but then I realized that I'm not lonely. I have you, always had you. No one else can compete – not Sam or Artie or that cute girl with the snakes for hair. And plus, there's only so many impressions he could do before they all started to sound like George Bush and well, the novelty wore off. I think we should just make up and be girlfriends again. I passed my exams for you, did you know that?"

"You have a diploma now?"

"I have a diploma now."

She remembers what Quinn said. What Rachel said. What Kurt said. She remembers how everything in the universe is pointing her in one direction, and that direction keeps leading her back to Brittany. Because of that, she wraps her arms around her girl and smashes their lips together.

They trade kisses – soft mouse kisses to long, tongue-caressing ones to ones that are just meant to tease. She pulls Brittany back into the apartment until they fall into a heap on the concrete floor, completely missing the couch by a handful of feet. It hurts like a motherfucker, but they're laughing and still kissing behind their tears.

Brittany rolls them over so that she's on top, legs on either side of Santana's hip. She breaks their sloppy kiss and leans backward, pushing a strand of Santana's hair behind her ears. There's only silence, heartbeat, and blue eyes staring deeply into dark brown ones.

Santana now knows what Kurt meant by coming home.

"I'm sorry," she tells Brittany. "For being such a fucking idiot."

Brittany bits her lip before smiling. "That's okay, someone has to be the dumb blonde one in this relationship. By the way – I totes did not have sex with Sam. That's like, masturbation or something and I could do that on my own."

Santana laughs from deep within her stomach, and it's the happiest she's ever felt in months. They kiss languidly for the next several minutes, until kissing is just not enough and they need naked skin to be involved.

Brittany rises up and strips off her shirt, while Santana starts unbuttoning Brittany's ridiculous zebra-printed jeans. Santana is in sweats, so it's easier for them to lift up her hips and swipe the whole thing off. In seconds, they're topless and only in their underwear, but it's still too much clothing.

"You're even more beautiful than I remembered," Brittany muses, resting their foreheads together. "How is that possible? Have you been stealing my unicorn juice?"

Santana laughs, dimples and all, and pulls Brittany in for a quick kiss. "I can say some bullshit cliché line like, that's because you make me beautiful babe, and you know what – I'm gonna say exactly that. You make me beautiful, babe."

"Oh, stop it, you're already in my pants."

Speaking of pants…Santana flips them over and quickly tears off Brittany's underwear. Her hands roam every single inch of soft skin as her mouth latches onto Brittany's pulse point. It's going to be quick, but it's so raw and intense that Santana feels like she's going to combust. Why did she ever give this up? This magnificent _woman_ and these amazing feelings are things that many would manipulate, lie, and cheat for.

Their mouths crush together as they begin to move away from the floor and onto the couch. Them having sex on the couch will suck for Rachel and Kurt, but Santana thinks it's payback for that time when Rachel nearly burned the kitchen down in an attempt at 'vegan' pizza and when Kurt blew up their electricity because he just _had_ to install that Super Sonic xXtreme Karaoke machine.

Pushing Rachel and Kurt out of her thoughts, she lays Brittany down and makes sure her girl is damn comfortable. She kisses her way down Brittany's neck, between her chest and then moves to suck in a hardened nipple, all without breaking eye contact. When Brittany writhes, groans, and pulls at her hair, she descends further and dips a tongue into Brittany's belly – one of the blonde's biggest weakness.

"San..."

"I know, baby," Santana mumbles, kissing the taut stomach before biting it. She lets out a throaty chuckle at the hand yanking at her hair. Her self-restraint is being tested right now, because all she wants to do is plunge her fingers deep inside _her _partner. Her soulmate. She just wants to completely dominate Brittany and spoil her for anyone else that even thinks about it.

But she's not an animal, so she takes her time lifting both of Brittany's leg over her shoulders, and those long, lithe legs clamp quickly around her head. Making sure Brittany doesn't buck her off into the next apartment, since Brittany loves to thrash around, Santana stills her to the couch with a hand planked across her chest.

Both of them are breathing heavily, making small groaning noises, and beginning to perspire because Brittany knows what's going to happen and Santana is getting ready to make it happen. After 6 fucking months apart, it will happen.

Keeping their eye contact, Santana lowers her head and makes a clean swipe at Brittany's center. She's already prepared for Brittany's choked moan and the way her lower body threatens to fly off, so she waits until Brittany calms down before she makes another swipe. Then she waits. Then she licks. Then Brittany is glaring at her and whines, "Stop teasing!"

She smiles before she goes to work between Brittany's thighs. God, she misses this. She misses the taste, smell, but most of all she misses the _feeling _like one would miss summer during the winter – where summer is heat, love, and passion and winter is cold, loneliness, and Earl Grey.

Her tongue tries to probe, thrust, and reach in between every facet of Brittany that no one ever has or will. One hand grips tightly on a milky waist, while the other fondles a heaving breast. It's still not enough to either of them.

She slowly licks her way up to Brittany's clit and sucks. She thrusts two fingers into the tight, warm heat and begin to move them piston fast, having no problem finding the spot that gets Brittany curling and arching off the couch.

Santana has concluded that this, _this_ is the most amazing feeling in the world, being inside Brittany.

* * *

They become girlfriends again. Its so easy Santana doesn't know why she was fighting it to begin with.

They spend their entire afternoon loving, kissing, touching, groping, and re-exploring each other's bodies. Santana takes Brittany bent over the couch, while Brittany takes her on the kitchen table. Since it's Brittany's first time seeing her apartment, Santana introduces Brittany to every surface in the place, saving her bedroom for last. They decide not to scar Kurt and Rachel too much by leaving their bedrooms untouched.

Kurt eventually finds them on the living room couch, curled around each other in nothing but oversize t-shirts. He stays to chat, but quickly excuses himself when Brittany slips a hand underneath Santana's shirt.

Just like that, they're back to where they started. Santana remembers that even though they had arguments, they had a lot more times where it was just them being happy and in love. Brittany tells her that she'll work harder at being an adult for Santana, while Santana tells Brittany that she'll never let her fears stop them again.

Santana also tells her what everyone has been saying, that they're soulmates. They should accept the fact that they're going to end up together forever, even at just 19 years old.

With that, they start off anew.

Santana shows Brittany around New York for the weekend before they both fly back to Lima. She takes her to the park and they spend the afternoon chasing dogs and feeding ducks. They go to the Met, where Brittany doesn't hide her disdain for modern art, saying, "Tubbs did a better piece than that, and all he used was yarn," angering the art snobs around them. They eat a hot dog at every stand they come across, and get into cursing matches with every pedestrian they run into on the streets. On the last night, they take a carriage ride on horses even though Rachel sent them a five paragraph email stating all the reasons not to.

On the day they leave for Lima, Santana is hit by how _grown up_ their weekend was and wonders if this is how it will be in the future when Brittany comes to live with them. Sure, they'll have to worry about bills and careers, but they won't be burden anymore by high school, parents, petty teenage gossip and stupid Lima, Ohio. It'll just be them, taking on the world.

The Lopez and Pierce are happy to see Santana and Brittany back together, and Lord Tubbington takes a moment to welcome Santana back despite their rivalry.

She and Brittany run into Sam at Lima Mart during a Cheetos and Pepsi run, and Santana surprises herself by feeling everything but anger at her former beard. She doesn't hate Sam for chasing Brittany – disappointed in him, maybe – but the guy's too sweet and naive to think further than his lips.

"Uh, hi," he says, smiling nervously and glancing quickly at their clasped hands. "You're not going to hit me are you? Because I'll let you do it, but please try to refrain from the lower region."

Brittany sends Santana a worried look, gripping onto her hand and shaking her head. But Santana isn't that girl anymore, so she says, "No Sammy, I'm not gonna go all Lima Heights on you. But I will –" she flicks her finger at his nose. " –Do that. Stay away from my girl, and for the love of all things big and guppy-lipped, try to stay away from girls who are taken? Ok? Good."

He nods with chuckle then says he has to return to the car where Unique is waiting for him. Santana and Brittany proceed to have the best sex of their life that night.

One evening, Mr. Pierce takes Santana aside and it turns out to be the deepest, most mature, adult conversation Santana has ever had. He asks her to take care of his daughter, and the sentiment makes her realize that she's no longer just an uncertain kid in a big city, but that she has a whole future ahead of her with an even more uncertain kid beside her, holding her hand every step of the way. He tells her that him and Mrs. Pierce, along with her parents haven't stayed married for 20 plus years by breaking up every time they have a fight. They stayed together for 20 plus years by sticking even tighter together every time they do fight.

Santana decides to use them as models for her relationship with Brittany. Yeah, she learned how to live without her other half, but it was a bitch and a half and she prefers not to be miserable thank you very much. To prove to the world that she can in fact be in a legit relationship, she calls up Quinn to invite her and Rachel out on a double date. She plans on bragging to them about how hot hers and Brittany's makeup sex is and that they're totally the hottest girl-on-girl relationship in Lima.

While getting ready for their double date, she bumps up _Free_ and shimmies around in her underwear. Brittany is lying half-naked on her old bed, too entertained by the latest gossip magazine to try and get ready. There are suitcases scattered around, and an empty bottle of Four Loko near the dresser.

She should feel nostalgic and sad, but when she turns around to face Brittany, and the blonde is grinning cheekily at her, all Santana feels is happiness.


End file.
